


another serenade

by redandgold



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: (Ish) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 18:57:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13863924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redandgold/pseuds/redandgold
Summary: PK isn't expecting the voice in his head.





	another serenade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [savedby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/savedby/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHdAY JULIJA!!!!!!!1 I love you a lot and I hope this is, like, something vaguely up your alley, I DUNNO, you're the best and I'm so glad to know you <333

PK isn't expecting the voice in his head. To be fair it's not, like, people never hear voices in their heads, but PK thought that the voices tend to be either the kind that's blank and doesn't actually exist, or Morgan Freeman. This one doesn't fit either category. It sounds an awful lot like a television, and while PK doesn't mind televisions, he'd much rather it have been Morgan Freeman.

"Hey, uh," he says out loud, tapping the side of his helmet. "Is anyone there? Only 'cause I really need to concentrate and this is messing up my concentration, man."

The voice stops. PK blinks, looks around. There's no one here except him and his stick and the puck.

"This is some weird shit," he mutters.

 

*

 

It gets weirder.

This time he's in the middle of a game when it happens. It's an important game, too; so the Habs have won the Cup the most, but _he's_ never won it with them, which makes a difference. _Seventy Six._ Goddamn. Feels kinda awesome. Would probably be better if he wasn't dogbeat tired from the five thirty flight, but you can't win 'em all.

Who the hell takes flights at five in the fucking morning, anyhow?

So he's skating. Going round his business, busting out of the zone towards Varlamov when suddenly there's the voice again.

PK knows he shouldn't stop, not when he's got the puck, but it's hard to do that when someone's whispering _Canadiens looking good on the offence_ in your head with absolutely no prior warning.

"Jesus," he says, slows right to a halt in the middle of the rink. Someone on the ice is screaming at him. His team or their team, he can't tell. _Subban's just stopped_ , says the voice in his head. It sounds almost quizzical. _Why's he stopped? He's got the – oh, fuck –_

Something smashes into him like a bulldozer, flattens him right against the dasher board. " _Jesus_ ," he says again, louder this time, and then the guy in the Capitals jersey is peeling off with his loot. More people are screaming. PK thinks it's a good job he's already notched his assist, otherwise he'd be out on his ass in the cold.

The voice has shut up, too.

 _Good,_ PK thinks.

 

*

 

"I'm not going crazy."

Johnny laughs. "Uh-huh."

"Seriously, man."

PK is pacing the hotel room like an out of control Zamboni. It's funnier than it sounds. He's locked the door so that no one's going to walk in on him not going crazy, but also it might mean that later he's going to have to deal with a furious Russian man who's been sitting in the corridor for an hour.

One step at a time.

"I know you're not going crazy, PK," Johnny's saying. PK almost forgot he was on the phone. "This is that soulbond thing. Didn't you listen to anything in school?"

"Didn't need to," PK grins. "Always knew I was gonna be a big hockey star, baby."

He can feel Johnny rolling his eyes even through the shitty connection. "Basically. Everyone's got someone in the world they have an instant bond with. That they can hear the thoughts of, for some reason. Don't ask me how it works or why. I don't know."

"I thought you knew everything."

"I thought _you_ did. Stop interrupting."

"Sorry, man."

"But it only happens when you meet them, or when you're near them. It doesn't even mean anything, really. Which is why tons of people go through life without bothering to remember this. Lots of people in the world."

"Tell me more, _National Geographic_ spokesman."

"You just lucked out, Subban."

"What can I say, I'm a lucky guy."

PK waggles his eyebrows. He knows Johnny can feel that, too.

 

*

 

Seventy six, this time against the Penguins, Cup champs last year. PK shrugs. Someone's gotta win it.

There're fifteen minutes left to the first period when the puck comes to PK. He's on the blue line and the goal looks awful far away, but he does it without thinking: shifts ten inches to the left and flicks sharp. There's a moment everyone loses sight of the puck and then it's in, past Fleury, and PK pumps his hands in the air, just before they jump him.

Big hockey star, baby. God _damn._

He hears it again, then, a grudging _not bad_ , and he preens. "Of course it was," he says. If he was a peacock he thinks his tail would be wide open by now.

_Lucky, though._

PK stops preening.

"Lucky?" he snorts. "That was skill, my man."

The _I'm sure it was_ that comes back is sardonic, but not cutting enough to be cruel. PK grins. He thinks he likes him, whoever he is. Wherever he is.

 

*

 

Eastern Conference Finals.

They need to win the fourth game to stay in the running, so they do; PK plays, like, really well, and that isn't even bragging. Even his bond-dude sounds pretty impressed.

 _Third_ _rookie defenceman in Canadiens history with three assists in one game._

PK shakes his head. That doesn't bode well. People who know these kinds of stats aren't usually the kinds of people who agree to racing on inflatable giraffes in a pool party, and although PK hasn't actually done that yet, you never know.

 

*

 

They lose the fifth. Not so well this time.

He does okay with interviews. He doesn't mind them, which is a huge step up from some of the players he knows, and he doesn't sound like the Hockey Robot™, which is a huge step up for newspaper copy. But having to do one straight after he's lost the first big series isn't as fun as people might think.

The guy they send today isn't someone he recognises. He looks almost the same age as PK and kind of awkward in the suit they've put him in, although PK's not going to lie and say he isn't hot, because he is. Not in the _A &F Hunk, Take Me Now _way but more a _You're Very Cute and I Acknowledge That_ kind of way.

The guy blinks and goes all red. PK stares at him.

"You okay, buddy? You look like you're gonna turn into a tomato. Please don't do that. I'm not qualified in CPR."

"I'm – " the guy takes a breath. "Yeah, I'm okay."

 "Oh, fuck me," says PK, which isn't, like, the best thing you can say on live television.

"We apologise for any language you might have heard," says the voice in his head.

 

*

 

He watches the interview back later in the hotel room, after about an hour of disciplinary action slash furious ribbing slash team bonding. They'd both recovered very well, even if he does say so himself, and the rest of it'd gone without any problems, except now he thinks he's going to have nightmares of Don Cherry bemoaning the moral outlook of today's game every so often.

So the thing itself had gone okay. But when PK had tried to talk to the guy after, the guy had just thanked him for his time and walked right off. Which was – bro. Fucking _cold._

The guy's name pops up at the bottom of the screen on the crawler. CAREY PRICE WITH PK SUBBAN _._ PK wrinkles his nose, unsure if he wants to burst out laughing, or if that'd be rude. "Carey, come on down," he says in his best Rich Fields voice. "You're the next contestant on the Price is Riiight."

 _You aren't the first person to make that joke and won't be the last,_ Carey thinks, probably snidely.

"That's the Price you pay, baby," PK says, and grins a mile wide.

 

*

 

He doesn't hear from Carey a while because his ass is back in Hamilton the next week, and Carey's got bigger NHL fish to fry. Just to keep things up he keeps thinking of the worst puns he can think of – _keep calm and Carey on_ , etcetera – but most of the time there's no response. Which sucks. PK doesn't know if making bad jokes about someone's name constitutes flirting, but if it does, it's very bad form not to reply.

Whatever. He wins the President's Award and he's all but set to play for the Habs next season, which doesn't mean that he gets to meet Obama, but does mean that he gets to bother Carey on a regular basis. PK hopes that Carey's quaking in his boots. He hopes that Carey's bought some new boots, really, because the other ones were basic. He's probably going to have to buy a pair for him.

 

*

 

PK realises midway through the season that Carey's just avoiding him. He hasn't done any of the interviews, and even in big ones with multiple mics he hides all the way in the back, which is stupid, because then PK can't see his beautiful face.

PK doesn't know if it's out of embarrassment at the way the last interview ended or if it's one of those Manly Men Have to Bottle Up Their Emotions kind of thing, or even if Carey's just intimidated by how cool he is.

It can be intimidating. But Carey's a solid nine out of ten and that should even the playing field a little.

He sees Carey flushing and grins. _Wanna go out for dinner?_ he thinks. _Promise I won’t make any jokes about your name._

 _No,_ Carey thinks back, pointedly.

 _Come on,_ PK wheedles. _It'll be fun. I'll buy drinks._

_No._

_Are you sure? I'll take you to the nicest place in Montreal. What d'you like to eat? I have Google, we'll find something._

" – in recent games?"

PK blinks. Carey grins at him like it's a challenge.

"I'm sorry," PK says. "Could you repeat that question?"

 _You bastard,_ he thinks. Asking a question at the same time as communicating telepathically just to prove that he's more professional. Who _does_ that?

 _Sorry,_ Carey thinks, obviously not sorry at all, still grinning like a fool. He's got a nice smile, PK'll admit that.

"How quickly did you guys have to hit the reset button considering the leads that have slipped from you in recent games?"

"Very quickly." PK gives some spiel about worthy opponents and having to fight hard and concentrate, yadda yadda, and finishes with a very sweet grin. He's also got a nice smile, he'll have Carey know.

 _Mm._ Carey's very non-committal about this. Too casually non-committal to actually be non-committal.

 _You like me,_ PK crows.

 _I do not._ Carey's not meeting his eyes, though, which implies the complete opposite.

PK's going to be smug about this for days.

 

*

 

There's an _okay_ in his head one morning, and PK bolts upright in bed.

"Okay what?"

_Okay, I'll have dinner with you._

"Dude, fucking finally. Why the sudden change of heart?"

_Rights to an exclusive interview._

PK blanches.

"That is. So lame, man."

_You want dinner or not?_

*

 

"So," says PK. They're sitting in some swanky restaurant in some swanky hotel whose lasagna Carey has already declared 'not as good as my mom's'. Which, of course, means that PK's already engineering a trip to momma Price's, purely on the grounds that he needs to compare lasagna.

"What?" Carey says through a mouthful of pasta.

"Why'd you get into reporting?"

"I did play." Carey shrugs. "My dad taught me. But it was a five hour ride by car every day to the nearest rink, and after a while it was tough on – everyone. So I picked up the next best thing."

PK makes a noise of sympathy. "Sorry, dude. I bet you were awesome." He brightens. "We could've been teammates and shit. Wouldn't that have been the coolest?"

He gets a laugh out of Carey, which is exactly as nice as he thought it would be. "Nope. I play goaltender, I'd probably have blamed you for everything."

"Oh, please." PK puffs out his chest. "I'm a saint. The only thing you can blame me for is being too cute."

"Yeah?"

Carey doesn't disagree straightaway, which, PK decides, is a step.

 

*

 

PK insists on walking Carey back, because he's a proper gentleman and proper gentlemen always walk their dates back, even if it isn't a date so much as a small press conference. Look, if he's going to sell out to the media he'll call it anything he likes.

Carey's place is some walk away from the restaurant. PK does most of the talking – predictable – but he's delighted to discover that Carey can more than hold his own, and by the time Carey tells him that his favourite show is fucking _Entourage_ , PK is well and truly enamoured.

God _damn._ Boy is cute. He needs to stop smiling and maybe chill a little. 

They end up outside a tiny apartment block and Carey looks for a moment like he's going to ask PK up, but then decides against it. PK's a little disappointed, but also he has practice tomorrow and he thinks a Wild Rambunctious Night won't help, especially since he's tried skating with a sore ass before and it sucks, man.

Carey pulls a face.

"Sorry," PK says blithely. "Give me a break. It's not like you ever get used to someone else listening in on your brain."

"Well," Carey grins. "Thanks for dinner."

"No problem, dude." PK punches him on the shoulder and then hates himself forever. Shoulder-punching. Jesus. He's not fifteen. "I hope you got what you wanted for your interview."

"What interview?"

"The one you – " PK's eyes widen. "Shut up."

Carey doesn't say anything. Just grins wider, until PK thinks his knees are going to give way, and then without any warning leans in and kisses PK.

 _Oh shit,_ PK thinks, before he loses all sense of coherence and his knees _definitely_ give way. It is. A good kiss. Carey's lips are very soft and very warm and he knows exactly how to work it. It's almost unfair when he pulls away. PK wants it to go on forever.

"Good night," Carey says, and then just as quickly he's disappeared inside.

"Oh shit," PK says out loud this time, and spends a couple minutes wrestling with his conscience to figure out whether calling in sick tomorrow is an option if he wants to go up and kiss Carey again.

In the end he figures that he should be Professional about the whole thing, so he shoves his hands in his pockets and heads back down the street, although he isn’t averse to a silly little skip as he gets off the steps.  

There's a snort.

_I saw that._

_You did not,_ PK scoffs. _This isn't, like, videotelepathy or something._

_From my window, you dumbass._

PK looks up. Carey's sticking his head out and laughing at him. The audacity.

 _I'll take you out for dinner again tomorrow,_ PK thinks. _And then I'll do_ two _skips. How'd you like that, big boy?_

"More than you'd think," Carey yells from upstairs, and PK really had that bad pun coming to him.

He doesn't mind at all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> \- Title from good ol' Billy J.'s The Entertainer  
> \- I read a buncha things about PK that I'm too lazy to list, but luckily Carey has [one nice handy resource](http://patelaine.tumblr.com/post/128431943688/the-pricey-primer-an-attempt-to-explain-my)  
> \- PK's [first playoffs game](https://www.nhl.com/gamecenter/wsh-vs-mtl/2010/04/26/2009030116) \+ [more about it](http://www.montrealgazette.com/sports/habs+subban+comfortable+playoff+stage/9839393/story.html)  
> \- [roommate culture](http://archive.azcentral.com/sports/coyotes/articles/20130211the-end-of-nhl-roommates-on-the-road.html) ???  
> \- Johnny is... [yup](www.youtube.com.sg/watch?v=zsYO1a-Vupo)  
> \- [Playoffs against the Penguins](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2010_Stanley_Cup_playoffs#\(4\)_Pittsburgh_Penguins_vs._\(8\)_Montreal_Canadiens), who [won the previous year](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2009_Stanley_Cup_playoffs)  
> \- [Eastern Conference Final](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/NHL_Conference_Finals#Eastern_Conference_\(Since_1994\))  
> \- [Third rookie defenceman](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/P._K._Subban#cite_note-6) thing  
> \- I dunno...I based the interview off [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fqBUNhk2y8g) i found  
> \- Hamilton is the AHL team PK played for, and he [won the president's award](https://allhabs.net/subban-wins-ahls-presidents-award/)  
> \- The [lasagna thing](https://books.google.com.sg/books?isbn=1459412761)  
> \- [Entourage](https://www.nhl.com/news/chillin-with-carey-price/c-406849)..truly  
> \- JULIJA, you are the sweetest bean and I love you to bits!!! You're so kind and caring and your devotion to fandom is truly incredible and I hope that this year is going to turn out something for you that you deserve <333


End file.
